The love of none
by nerdygirlforce1
Summary: "You're fire, Dean. You burn everyone you touch to the ground," (Dean Ambrose/ OC pairing)
1. Chapter 1

He dug his fists into the ground, digging up the fresh earth, enjoying the feel of the ground beneath his touch. He has always enjoyed the simple human sensations that most take for granted, like touch, taste, and sound, because it helps him hold on to the only shred of humanity he has left.

When hes shifted, he loses the sensations of fingernails digging in the ground, or the feeling of bare skin on the coarse grass.

Dean pressed his head to the damp grass and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain that the full moon brought. The searing pain tore through his through his enitre body, touching his soul, leaving scars that would never completely heal.

As a child, he pretended that shifting was the like the beginning of a superhero origins story in his beloved comic books, when the superhero fell into a chemical bath or was struck by lightning. The hero endured pain, but from the pain came a better man, and a changed world.

As he got older, he recognized those stories for what they were. Pure fiction. Nothing but products of overactive imaginations, designed to give false hope.

A scream emerged from his throat as he felt his skin rip, bursting with hair. He smelled the familiar coppery scent of his own blood as he struggled to remain conscious. His vision blurred and his ears rung as his senses heightened all at once, one of the most nauseating parts of the process.

The burning pain started to numb as the shifting was completed. He laid there, regaining his composure before timidly standing up and shaking his light brown fur. He felt another familiar powerful urge as he stared at the full moon, the only thing illuminating the dark night.

The urge to hunt.

Werewolves can be the most controlled people on the planet, but once they surrender to the full moons call and shift, their most primal instincts show forth.

Dean always told himself as a young child that he would be different than his brothers in that sense, he would never lose control and kill mercilessly, for no reason other than for the pure thrill of it.

But once he shifted, he lost control, and he will always remember the first person he killed. Every time he looks at the full moon he sees the boys face, full of shock and confusion, his eyes glassy, staring into the oblivion.

But every shift, he would do it again. And tonight was no different.

Dean pushed the memories out of his head and took off at a full sprint. The past couldn't hurt him if it can't catch him. He smelt the air and let out a long howl, catching the close scent of a human. For as many times as he has killed, the guilt still hit hard. He would always think of the person's family or kids, but the urges were to strong to ignore. So he dealt with the guilt, allowing it to seep into his veins, killing him slowly.

He went from a sprint to a silent jog as he spotted movement. He saw bright lights, and he concluded that is was a small cabin, nestled in a very nice spot in the forest. Dean spotted a woman, appearing around his age, standing on the cabin steps, looking at the sky. He could make out her slender frame and long hair in the dark, but not much else. He stalked closer to her, crouching in a bush just beyond her line of vision.

As he watched her, his memories clouded his thoughts.

"_Youre a monster Dean! I could never love you know that I know who you really are!" _

"_You said your love was unconditional." _

"_Not when Its something like this! You're a black hole, Dean, You suck everyone and everything into your personal hell so they can wait out an eternity of darkness with you, Because you can't stand what you've become. But i'm not suffering with you. I am not going to sit around and wait to be killed the next time you lose control. Not like he did." _

Dean howled at the memory, causing the woman to look his way in shock. He struck, charging at her, using his large body to tackle her and pin her to the dirt. She barely made a sound, her fear rendering her silent. She squirmed underneath his body, but it was no use as he dug his sharp teeth into the soft flesh of her neck.

She halted her movements as the blood poured, covering Deans mouth and fur. He jerked his head side to side, trying to kill her quickly. He looked at her and halted his movements as the moon shone on her face. She was beautiful, with pale skin, but her eyes just about killed him. They were bright blue, and they were calm, not frantic like the other people he killed.

To his own surprise, he released her, his urges to kill replaced by an urge to stop the bleeding in the gash he caused. Unable to shift back until morning, he dragged her by her legs deeper into the woods. Thankfully, he didn't go far to hunt, It was only a short run to where he called home, and he was sure Roman would help her, If he could. Dean pulled her through the woods, listening to the girls faint heartbeat, the memories ringing through his head.

"_Youre fire, Dean. You burn everyone you touch to the ground." _


	2. Chapter 2

"FUCK MAN! WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?"

Roman jumped as Dean dropped the barely alive woman unceremoniously at the large mans feet. Her pale skin was turning grey, and she was starting to cough, splattering little droplets of blood on the floor.

"_I will explain later, just please try to save her." _Dean thought to roman, an ability that all wolves have.

Romans eyes widened as he registered what his friend had just asked him.

"Save her? Your fucking out of your damn mind man how...how were you even able to stop yourself from killing her?"

"_How am I supposed to know now quit fucking asking questions and do something!" _

Dean started pacing the floor of their small house in frustration, leaving a trail of dirt across the wooden floor.

"Don't start that bullshit attitude with me." Roman spat as he crouched down and examined the wound dean made. It wasn't very deep, but it was long, spanning from the side of her neck almost to her collarbone. Honestly, he was surprised the girl was still breathing.

"Damn man" Roman ran his hand through his long dark hair and looked back at dean, who was still pacing around the floor. His fur was matted with her dark blood, and his blue eyes were cloudy with- concern? sympathy? Roman couldn't tell, but he didn't care right now.

"Even if I do save her the same thing will happen the next full moon. You know that by experience."

Dean growled loudly at the fact and roman put his arms up in defense, deciding to drop the subject. " do you even know her name"

"_I call her blue eyes." _

Roman rolled his eyes and took that as a no.

"Well i'm gonna take her into the back room and see what i can do" Roman didn't sound optimistic, because he was sure she was going to die. He slowly gathered the small girl into his arms and took off towards the back of the house. Dean started to follow but Roman stopped him.

"I don't need your nervous clumsy ass stumbling around back there while im trying to work. Stay here until you shift back." Dean growled in protest, but stopped himself, figuring roman was right. He would just fuck it up and end up killing her.

Now that he was alone, he could figure out what the hell happened. He has never shown that type of self control before, and it freaked him the fuck out.

"_I could stop myself from killing a random girl, but not from killing him…"_

He shook that haunting thought out of his mind, focusing instead on his aching bones and his exhaustion. He ran here, well as much as he could run as he was dragging her with him, and the whole turn of events just left him worn out.

He curled up in the middle of the floor, not caring enough to find a more comfortable spot to rest. The last thing he heard before passing out completely was a faint scream of pain.

Dean woke up the next morning, dirty, human, and naked. He was still in the living room, sprawled out in the middle of the floor. He slowly sat up, shaking the dirt from his shaggy, dirty blond hair and he winced at the soreness in his muscles, something that always came with shifting. He looked around and didn't see Roman anywhere, but he found him in the kitchen. He was sitting in one of the chairs, drinking a glass of water.

"Did she die?" Dean asked bluntly, moving to stand in front of the older man.

"Nice to see you too, Dean." Roman said, laughing at the scowl on dean's face.

"But you're fucking lucky, because no, shes alive."

Dean's eyes widened, clearly not expecting this type of news. He turned on his heels, making a break for the back room, where she was resting.

"When you come back, you're answering my damn questions!" Roman yelled, and then yelled again

"Dean wait!"

Dean turned around, impatiently staring down at Roman. "Fucking what dude!"

"Before you see her, put some damn pants on! You're naked dude, remember?"


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sat on the edge of the bed she was laying on. Roman cleaned her up as much as he could, but she still looked air in the room was thick with the scent of blood, dirt, and wolf, And what remained of her clothes were covered in black mud and blood. So much blood. Dean had never really gotten used to blood and gore, despite being around it for almost all of his life.

Dean grabbed a wet washcloth, running it over her face and body, paying attention to her skin, which he concluded was probably usually bright and healthy looking. Now it was weak and fragile, almost a sickening shade of grey.

He carefully took her unsalvageable clothes off, Throwing them out before slipping one of his old t shirts on her. He looked at her small form as he sat on the opposite side of the bed, letting his mind wander.

Dean imagined her as a shy person, who kept to herself most of the time. Due to her pale skin, he figured that she must not get out much either. He made a picture of her in his mind, the real, uninjured her, with clean hair and healthy, flawless skin. With eyes that lit up with excitement, not dulled with pain. He felt better looking at the image of her in his mind than of her real condition in front of him.

Because if he looked at how she was now, He would be reminded that it was his fault. He ruined another life, an innocent life.

But there was a nagging thought in his head. Why should he care? He didnt even know her, he should have just killed her in the woods and saved himself the trouble. But he didnt. And here he was trying to save her and help her.

Maybe it was his sick way of taking the blame off of himself. If he saved her, he couldn't feel bad for hurting her.

His head spun with the what ifs and he finally gave up on the why and how and just focused on her. "come on blue eyes, just wake up."

He closed his eyes, resting his head on the bed, until a voice small jolted him back to life.

"Where am i?"


End file.
